


you’re the only spirit that i crave

by saddestboner



Series: Author's Favorites [19]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consent Play, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spanking, mild D/s themes, sex tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: José makes it so hard for James to be good.





	you’re the only spirit that i crave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blastellanos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/gifts).



> I feel like I'm like circling the drain here re. themes, whatever, I'm just gonna launch myself into the sun now. Enjoy!!! (✿◕‿◕)
> 
> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/profile)[**blastellanos**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/) for putting up with me on twitter and looking this over for me.
> 
>  **Additional warnings:** There's mild consent play (and at one point one character worries he might have pushed too far). It's all intended to be fully consensual, just kind of... uneasily toeing the line between "just far enough" and "maybe a little too far." Also I realize there's no mention of condoms so if that bothers you you can choose to believe they grabbed them at some point while the author wasn't paying attention. There are a lot of Feelings and they're Disgusting. They're both emotionally messy and kind of all over the place. Also, this is more implied than stated outright, but they've been doing this for a while and this particular night is when the Feelings explode.
> 
> There's Spanish and it's left intentionally untranslated. It may or may not be accurate.
> 
> Title from " **[Black Water](http://nullrefer.com/?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsuQUP1lfDA)** ," by Timber Timbre. Listen to it. 
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Temptation is always at hand when you’re a ballplayer, and some are better at resisting than others. Miggy’s got a beautiful wife and a perfect family, but he still goes off with strange women on the road sometimes. Romine’s a believer like James is—even leads team Bible studies sometimes and tapes bits of scripture up in his locker—but James has seen him with women on his arm who definitely aren’t his lovely wife Kathryn. 

James has also seen some things he’d rather not even think about. Things that make his face grow warm and his stomach roil uneasily, flames of Hell licking at his feverish skin.

James has to be an example to the world and it’s just _hard_ having all of that on his shoulders, pressing down like a boulder. 

James works _very_ hard at being good: being a good ballplayer, son, brother, follower of Christ. Some of it comes easily for him. Gripping a baseball in a fastball grip and gunning down baserunners at second comes as naturally to James as breathing. He can chart hot and cold zones, memorize hitter tendencies, drop down a tag in his sleep. 

Some of it takes a lot of effort and hard work, though, like being a living example of Christ’s teachings, leading a righteous life and emulating the Savior for those around him. Preaching to those who want to listen and unlocking the hearts of those who do not.

José makes it so hard for James to be good.

José is like a wicked child, stepping on the heels of James’s shoes and tripping him up from behind. He just can’t help but stumble and fall sometimes.

Right now, James is allowing himself to be led like a lamb to slaughter. He works very hard at not noticing how José’s hand fits into his, at how his fingers feel pressing against James’s. He tries not to notice the numbers on the hotel room doors as they pass them by—they pass by room thirty-three, James’s room—for José’s. 

James does not think about what they’re going to do once they get on the other side of that door. 

They’re not going to do anything. James will push him away this time.

José slides his keycard through the scanner on the door and it clicks open. He pauses and turns to James, a smile alighting on his face. 

James looks back at him—impassively, he hopes—and digs his teeth hard into his bottom lip, until he tastes copper on his tongue. He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for anyone, anything.

José rolls his eyes and turns his back on him, pushing the door open wider and stepping into the room.

James closes his eyes, takes a deep, fortifying breath. Tells himself tonight is the night he finally tells him no. Tonight is the night James finally puts his foot down, tells José he’s not going to do this anymore.

“Are you coming or no?” comes José’s soft, disembodied voice from the other side of the door.

James opens his eyes. 

His feet move him forward, into the room.

José shuts it gently behind him and locks it with a twist of his wrist. The click of the tumblers sliding into place sounds impossibly loud to James’s ears.

“Thirsty?” José leans against a little table tucked in against a pale yellow wall and crosses his arms over his chest. He regards James with a lazy, lizard-eyed gaze.

“Not really,” James says, sliding his hands out of his pockets to crack his knuckles.

José laughs. It’s not a kind laugh. “Oh, okay.”

James glances around, taking in the room. The pale walls, the brown faux wood table, the impressive minibar. The bedspread is tacky flower print.

“You’re not here for drinks, why are you here for?” José teases, pushing away from the wall and coming closer. 

Every movement is deliberate. The smile he sends James’s way is sharply angled. He comes to a stop in front of James and runs a hand up his chest. James looks down at José’s hand on the front of his blue Captain America shirt, resting over the shield.

James’s stomach starts doing acrobatic twists and flips as José keeps moving his hand. Lower, and then lower, until he tugs at James’s belt.

“You know what I’m here for,” James mutters, grudgingly. He feels like he should knock José’s hand away, but he leaves his hands hanging loosely—uselessly—at his sides. 

“Wanna hear you say it,” José says, tugging on his belt again, sliding his fingers over the brass buckle. 

“No,” James says.

José opens the buckle and slides the leather strap free. James looks down again. He watches José’s fingers tug at the zipper on his jeans. 

James should stop him. 

“What d’you want?” José asks, pausing, letting his hands go still.

James lifts his head and looks at his face. There’s a mole by the corner of his mouth that he wants to taste. He wants to put his hands on José. He wants to hold him down and fuck him until he’s a sobbing mess, coming apart underneath him.

He digs his nails into his palms to keep from reaching out, instead.

“Didn’t think getting my dick sucked would come with a game of twenty questions,” James snarks.

“You like it.” José grins and it reaches the corners of his eyes.

“Stop talking,” James says, reaching out, catching him by the back of the neck. José’s eyes go wide for a moment—he hadn’t expected that—before his face settles into a carefully cultivated neutral mask.

“You want me to stop?” José asks.

“I’m not exactly here for your conversation skills,” James says, still holding him by the back of his neck. He’s close enough that he could pull him in the rest of the way, if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t want to. 

“I meant this,” José says, brushing his fingers across the front of James’s flimsy cotton boxers. 

James hisses between his teeth. And starts thinking about serpents in the garden, tempting ordinary humans into sin. “You know what I meant.”

José grins even wider and presses the heel of his palm against James’s erection. 

“Getting warmer?” José asks, pretend sweet, fluttering his eyelashes and puckering his lips.

James hauls him in, fingers digging into his neck, and shoves his mouth against José’s. José’s mouth is scalding hot and his tongue slides against James’s. His stubble burns as it scrapes against James’s lips and cheeks and chin. One of his hands is trapped between their waists and the other lands on James’s back, pulling him in closer. 

James’s pants are around his thighs, and he’d feel silly if he and José hadn’t already danced to this tune at least a hundred times before.

James is not thinking about damnation. He is not thinking about the Evil One or serpents or eternal lakes of fire. He’s thinking about José’s mouth against his mouth, his tongue sliding against his tongue, and the press of his fingers against his cock.

He lets his other hand paw through José’s hair. José makes a low, desperate noise that vibrates against James’s lips. And he draws back just enough. José’s lips glisten glossy and red and James rubs his thumb against the curve of his upper lip before he pushes his thumb into his mouth.

José smirks and swirls his tongue around James’s thumb, getting it good and wet. 

James pulls his hand away from José’s face, dragging his wet fingers across his lips. “Get on your knees.”

José raises his eyebrows. “You think you calling the shots now?”

James slides his fingers down his neck. “You wanted me to tell you what I want and I did.”

“I change my mind,” José says, splaying his fingers across James’s big brass belt buckle.

James sighs and sweeps a hand through his hair. “What do you want, then?”

José reaches up and grabs onto his wrist, tugging his arm down. “Want you to push me down,” he says, jerking on his arm.

“What?” James narrows his eyes.

“Put your hands on me,” José says, pressing James’s hand against his neck, “push me down.”

James shakes his head and tries to pull away, but José just tightens his grip. “I don’t understand.”

José sighs, through his nostrils, and grits his teeth. “You always this slow? Or just a bad day? You take a foul tip to the head?”

James glares at him. “You’re not funny.”

“You don’t have a sense of humor,” José retorts.

“You want me to push you around?” James asks.

José’s shaking his head, saying, “No, no, I _want_ you to—”

James cuts José off with a press of his lips against his, fingers still curled around his shoulder. José twists his fingers in the sleeve of James’s shirt. His teeth are sharp on James’s lips, drawing blood. James tugs his hand away from José’s to wrap it around his neck, he pushes his tongue into his mouth, he presses up against José as he presses José back into the wall.

James feels José’s hands press against his chest, and then he’s being pushed away. José holds him at arm’s length and stares at him, mouth hanging open slightly, chest heaving.

“What,” James says. He feels kind of silly just standing there with his pants hanging around his thighs. 

“Not what I mean,” he says, breathing out loudly through his nose. 

“Then show me what you mean,” James snaps. The irritation hangs over him like an itchy, uncomfortable sweater, scratching against his skin.

José grabs James by the wrist and puts hand over his throat. “Push me down,” he says again, as James strokes his fingers curiously over the hollow of his throat, “and make me.”

James feels flames on the sides of his face. Hellfire, he thinks. He’s been damned. He’s been damned since the very moment he looked at José and thought _I want him._

“You want me to…” He tightens his grip on his throat just a little bit, still not hard enough to hurt.

José nods eagerly. “Yes, yes. You’re big and strong,” he says. “You could… You could make me do whatever you wanted.”

“I’m a _good_ man,” James murmurs, rubbing his thumb over José’s Adam’s apple. “I wouldn’t make you—”

“Who you trying to convince? Me or you,” José interrupts, tipping his head back.

James strokes his fingers under his chin. “You make me into someone I’m not.”

“This is you,” José says, laughing softly, patting James on the chest. “Who you are. I don’t make you do anything.”

James leans in and grips José by the arms and presses all his weight into him. José squirms against him, but there’s nowhere for him to go. “I never would’ve even thought of doing this if it wasn’t for you,” he hisses.

“You need me. I help you,” José continues, his tone lilting. 

James just stares at him, fingers wrapped tightly around his arms, as he weighs his options. His blood throbs in his veins. There’s copper on his tongue and sulfur in the air.

“Go on,” José urges. “Take what you want.”

James’s heartbeat beats in his ears like a drum. There’s an urgent whisper at the back of his mind, telling him to back away. To just leave and go down the hall to his own room. To put José out of his mind once and for all. 

James wipes that voice away like an eraser to a whiteboard and pulls José away from the wall. He puts up a fight, mostly for show, but James manages to catch his face in his hands and bring their mouths together in a painful clash of lips and teeth. José’s hands push at his shoulders, try to push him away, but James is too strong. He wants this too much.

José manages to push away and James reaches out for him, grabbing at his shirt. José moves gracefully even now, as he twists away from James’s hands. James catches him by his arm and tugs him back against his chest.

He finally stops trying to get away and James turns his face until his lips brush against José’s jawline, against the side of his neck. He grips José’s arm securely.

“Let me go,” José says, squirming away. He doesn’t sound like himself, breathless, winded. 

“No.” James pulls him back against his chest again.

José jerks against James’s hand on his arm. “What’re you gonna do to me?” he asks.

“Whatever I wanna do,” James says.

“That’s no answer.” José presses his hips back against James’s cock.

James lets go of him and spins him around. He grips the collar of José’s shirt and tugs it open. Shiny plastic buttons scatter into the densely packed carpet. José reaches up like he’s going to stop him, but James brushes his hand aside. 

José’s dark eyes shine like polished onyx.

“James, don’t—”

“You gonna tell me not to?” James asks, pushing the shirt off José’s shoulders.

José gives a minute shake of his head. “We should stop—”

“Shut up.” James grabs him by the arms again and glances over his shoulder, at the bed, and the ugly flower print bedspread. 

José looks over at the bed too. “It’s not a good idea,” he says, even as he hooks his finger in James’s belt loop and pulls him closer.

“I’m all about bad ideas.” James tugs José toward the bed. 

José puts up enough of a fight that James thinks, for a moment, that he’s changed his mind about all this. But when he looks back at him, José just looks back with those dark glittering eyes, lips wet and slightly parted. 

James gives José a gentle shove in the chest and he stumbles back, feet slipping out from under him. He lands on the carpet with a solid thump and stares up at James, eyes widening in—James thinks—surprise. 

James looms over him, sliding a hand into his boxers. He kicks his pants off and toes them out of the way. José doesn’t move from his spot on the floor. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from James.

James bends down, with a groan, and gets to a knee next to José. “Open your mouth.”

José clamps his lips shut and shakes his head and James reaches out, squeezing his chin in his fingers. 

“You don’t get to do that, you can’t just change your mind,” he says, spitting out the first thing to flit into his mind.

José’s eyes flicker. He shoves James’s hand away from his chin and works his jaw a bit before parting his lips.

“I want you to blow me,” James says.

José glances at James and thins his lips until his mouth disappears.

“José,” James sighs. “Don’t make this difficult.” 

José flicks his eyes away, but he lets his mouth drop open. James cups a hand around the back of his neck and guides him closer, until he can shove his cock into his mouth. José chokes and splutters, but he recovers quickly, shifting onto his knees. He takes James deeper, relaxing his throat around him, and James is grudgingly impressed because he’s not exactly small or anything.

José’s mouth is slick wet heat, and his hand on James’s shaft creates just the perfect amount of friction, and James is spiraling into it. Into the feeling. He tries to be gentle, careful, but he can feel himself getting lost in the—whatever game they’re playing. He thrusts his hips and José gags around him, and the part of him that’s still himself feels bad. The part of him that’s playing the game wants to make him choke on his cock again.

With great effort, James manages to push José away and hold him at arm’s length. He looks a mess, his lips red and swollen, saliva and pre-come oozing from the corner of his mouth. His eyelashes clump together with wetness and James reaches up to thumb some of it away. José lifts a hand to rub at his throat and he says nothing.

That sets James a little bit on edge.

“Get on the bed,” James orders, pointing. 

José shakes his head, still rubbing at his neck.

“Get on the bed, José,” James says, dropping his arm.

“No,” José rasps, sounding thick and gritty and _used_.

James takes him by the arm—gentler than before, maybe he feels a little bad—and pulls him to his feet. He yanks José against his chest. “That wasn’t a request.”

José stares up at him, still pressing his fingers under his chin. “You gonna make me then?”

James shoves him toward the bed and he falls back on the mattress with a sigh. He looks up at James and pinches and rolls the skin under his chin between his thumb and forefinger. James looks down at José, at the flush on his cheeks, lets his eyes skate down his bare chest. He reaches down and tugs open José’s pants, yanking them down his hips. His cock tents his boxers and James presses the heel of his hand against it. José squeezes his eyes shut and finally lets his hand fall away from his neck.

“You’ve been good, so I’m gonna give you what you want,” James says, teasing his fingers into the waistband of José’s boxers.

“And what’s that?” José asks, still hoarse from earlier.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” James says.

“What if I say I change my mind,” José asks, even as he rolls his hips against James’s hand.

James wraps his fingers around his cock. He’s already leaking, hot and heavy in James’s palm. He rubs his thumb across the head, fingers growing slippery with his pre-come, and starts jacking him, slowly. 

“You want it,” James says, dragging his hand down the length of José’s cock. “You’re ready for it, I can tell.”

José looks down at James’s hand in his boxers, fisted around his erection. He drags in a deep breath, holds it for a couple beats, and then lets it go. He says nothing, just lifts his eyes to meet James’s. They’re so dark they’re nearly black, and a deeper shade of red is slashed across his cheekbones.

James slips his hand away from José’s cock to shove him back against the mattress. José twists and writhes underneath him and shoves at his chest, but there’s nothing behind it. He holds José down by the shoulders and sits on his hips, pinning him down with his weight. 

After a moment, James slips down José’s body and pushes his thighs apart. He bends his head and licks into José’s hole, licks around the rim, before pressing his tongue inside. José starts squirming against him, tearing at the bedspread, and James isn’t sure if he’s trying to take him deeper or pull away. He throws an arm across José’s hips, pinning them against the mattress, and pushes his tongue back inside him.

James is vaguely aware, now, that José’s muttering something under his breath as he works his tongue deeper. He’s given up on trying to get away, though. James squeezes his thigh encouragingly. He gets a hand back around José’s cock and starts stroking it again.

José taps his fingers against the hand of James’s that’s squeezing on his thigh. “Stop.”

James looks up at him, going still. “Hm?”

“Thought you wanted…” José trails off, looking almost embarrassed, cheeks flaring an even deeper shade of red than they already are. He can’t be, though. James has never known him to be embarrassed by anything. 

“Wanted what?” James prompts, sitting back on his heels a little bit.

José pushes himself up on his elbows. He rubs idly at his stomach, fingers straying near his cock. “To fuck me.”

James touches his thigh again, fitting his fingers over the fresh bruises he’s left behind. “I still do,” he says.

“You keep going, I’m gonna…” José shrugs and reaches up to push his hands through his hair.

James crawls back between his legs, knocking them apart with his knee. He fits his hand over José’s hip but doesn’t pull him closer. “I’ll fuck you anyway,” he says, rubbing his thumb in the crease between José’s hip and thigh. 

José glances down at the back of his hand. “If I said no?”

James pauses, suddenly unsure they’re still playing the same game. He moves his hand slowly up José’s waist, over his ribs. “You won’t.”

José glances at him and sighs softly. He lifts an arm, hesitates for a moment, before sliding his fingers in the hair at the back of James’s neck. “I won’t.”

James’s stomach twists uneasily. He slips a hand over José’s cheek. “Good.” He pauses, studies the shine of José’s eyes, the curve of his upper lip, the mole on his cheek. 

He finally pulls himself away from José and sits back against the pillows. José looks down at him, brows knitting in apparent confusion. 

“What—” he starts.

James rests a hand on José’s thigh and rubs his thumb in a circle. “I want you to ride me.”

José shifts his eyes away. His flush crawls down his neck to his chest. James reaches out, grabs him by the arm and pulls him down, into his lap. José lands on his back, sprawled across James’s thighs. He looks up at him, squints, makes a face.

“What?” James asks, draping an arm over him.

José grabs onto James’s arm and holds on for a moment, then pushes it away. He sits up slowly and combs his fingers through his hair. “Nothing.”

José straddles James’s hips and spits into his palm, reaching behind him to wrap his hand around his cock. His fingers quickly grow slippery with his saliva and James’s pre-come and he holds James’s gaze as he works his fist around James’s cock—James detects the hint of a challenge in his eyes—and James squeezes on his thigh. 

It’s awkward and a little uncomfortable—James didn’t work him open as much as he usually does—and José takes his sweet time, biting hard on the inside of his cheek and then gnawing on his bottom lip until it’s puffy and slick and red with spit. José shifts his eyes away from James’s, finally, and braces a hand on his thigh. His other one is still fisted tight around his cock.

“Any day now,” James snipes.

“Shut up.” José looks up, rolls his eyes, and flips him the bird. 

“Am I too big for you?” James teases, crawling his hand up José’s knee to his thigh. “You need me to open you up some more?”

“Fuck off.” José slaps at James’s hand, knocking it away from his thigh.

James grabs José around the waist and throws him onto his back, rolling on top of him and holding him down. José stares up at him, the flush in his cheeks crawling down his neck to his shoulders and his chest. His hands rest lightly on James’s shoulders. He pushes against James’s chest and tries to squirm away, but James just presses him back down.

“What’re you gonna do to me?” José asks, with a little hitch of breath. Like a skipping record.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re a mess and you’re sobbing my name,” James vows, snaking a hand down José’s side to his hip.

“I don’t cry,” José says, tipping his chin up.

“I’ll make you,” James says, leaning in and running his mouth over José’s neck, down his shoulder. “I know what to do. I know how to take you apart.” 

José’s eyes darken. “Almost wanna see you try.” 

There’s a challenge there, in his eyes and the defiant set of his jaw.

James pushes his fingers into José’s mouth and he sucks at them, slicking them with his spit, until he pulls his hand away. He caresses his wet fingers over the smooth skin of José’s thigh before shoving two of them into him without any pretense. José gasps and jerks against his fingers, reaching down and clutching at James’s wrist.

“Too much?” James asks.

José narrows his eyes. “No.”

“You sure?” James pulls back, just a bit, before pushing back in. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” José hisses through his teeth.

“Mm,” James says. He withdraws his hand, tucks a third finger in with the others and starts fucking him again. Slides his fingers in and out, in and out, striking up a steady rhythm.

José squirms underneath James and struggles to push his hips against his fingers. “Let me up,” he begs, with just a tinge of desperation in his voice. “I need—need to—”

“What is it?” James asks, pulling his hand away from José to run his wet fingers down the inside of José’s thigh.

“Need _more_ ,” José snaps, lifting a hand to slap at James’s arm.

James pushes his arm away and pins it to the mattress. He laces his fingers with José’s. His other hand is still tracing idle patterns on his thigh. “Tell me what you need.”

“Thought you were the one with the ideas,” José says. 

“You wouldn’t like my ideas.” James grins down at him, drags his fingers slowly up the inside of José’s thigh.

José squirms underneath him some more. “Try me.”

“We could play a game,” James says, pushing his fingers back inside him, thrusting them shallowly.

José rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are flushed bright red. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, slicking it with his saliva. “Tell me more.”

“I’m gonna tie you to the bed,” James says. “Tease you and finger you until you’re almost there, then I’m gonna stop.”

José huffs disapprovingly. “Bad idea. Don’t like this one.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” James thrusts hard, this time, and José bumps his head back against the headboard. “Then, after you’re all worked up, desperate and begging, sobbing my name, then I’m gonna throw you over my knee and spank you.”

José’s eyes pop open at that. “You think I’ll let you?” he asks, a little breathlessly.

“You will,” James promises, taking his hand back. “Anyway, I’m gonna spank you ’til you’re all red and raw and you can hardly stand it. ’Til you’re burning up. _Then_ I’m gonna fuck you.” 

José’s eyes flicker and he chews on his bottom lip. “Yeah?”

“I’ll make you feel good.” James rubs a hand over José’s stomach.

“Don’t believe you.” José reaches down to push his hand away.

“I ever not made you feel good?” James asks, leaning in closer, dropping his voice to a near whisper. He grazes his lips against José’s stubbly cheek, nips gently on his earlobe. 

Now James feels like the snake in the garden, trying to tempt José into falling.

José closes his eyes and sighs, slipping his arms around his neck. James feels his fingers start sifting through the hair at the back of his neck.

“Answer the question,” James demands, rubbing his cock against the firm muscle of José’s thigh. 

He could get himself off this way, just rutting against José’s muscular thighs like a horny teenager. Or he could turn him on his stomach, press José down into the mattress, tug at his hair, and rub himself off against his ass. 

“You do,” José says, so quietly James has to lean even closer to hear him. His fingers stop moving through his hair.

“I don’t think you’re being honest,” James says, reaching down to grab at José’s hip to bring him closer. “I think you need to be punished.”

José shivers underneath him. “I’ll be good.”

James nudges his lips against José’s but doesn’t quite kiss him. “Get on your stomach.”

When James pulls back, José’s staring at him with wide eyes. It makes James feel self-conscious and, for a moment, he floats back into himself. He digs his fingers in the comforter underneath them.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” José says, wrapping his hand around James’s. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Sorry, but you really haven’t given me any choice,” James says, sitting up. He nods at him. “Go on. On your stomach.”

José pushes James’s hand away and does as he asks, rolling until he’s face first on the mattress. He grabs blindly for a pillow and tucks it under his chin. James runs a hand appreciatively over the full curve of José’s ass. Slips his hand down lower to caress the back of his thigh.

José sighs into the pillow. James runs his fingernails down José’s thigh to his calf, and back up.

James draws a breath, lifts his hand, and brings his palm down against José’s ass with a solid smack. It seems to take José by surprise and he jerks his hips against the mattress, before tossing a look over his shoulder at James.

James just lifts his shoulder in a shrug before raising his hand again. José pushes his face back into the pillow and wraps an arm around it. James brings his hand back down, lifts it back up and does it again. Does it again and again, until José’s ass is red and he’s writhing against the mattress and his skin is hot to the touch. 

James strokes his fingers over José’s ass, over the warm skin puckered with gooseflesh. When he shoves a hand under José to grope at his dick, his fingers slip against slick hot flesh. 

“You liked that,” James says, squeezing his fist around José’s dick. “You liked being punished.”

José pushes his hips against James’s hand. “No,” he says, shakily, lifting his head from the pillow. “I don’t think I learned my lesson. I think you need to do it again.” 

James laughs and draws his hand away from José’s ass. “I’ve got something better in mind.”

“Oh?” José looks back at him again.

James crawls on top of him and rubs the head of his cock between José’s cheeks and feels José stiffen and go completely still underneath him. James presses a hand against the small of his back, pushes his hips back into the mattress. 

“Are you—are you gonna fuck me now?” José asks. 

“Not yet.” James forces himself to back away. 

He wants to take him right now—right here—just like this. With José rubbing his leaking cock against the mattress, arms wrapped tight around the pillow. James wants to fill him up completely and throw his weight all over him and fuck him until he forgets everything except James, James’s name. 

James wants every bruise on José’s skin to come from his hands, his teeth, his mouth. He touches a bruise on José’s upper arm that he knows came from a hit-by-pitch in that night’s game and he can’t help but be jealous of the baseball that left that mark behind, wishing it was him. 

José hisses through his teeth. “Still stings.”

He presses his fingers down over the bruise and José draws in a shaky breath. He doesn’t exactly move away, though. 

James bends down over him, kisses a mole on the back of José’s neck, then fits his mouth over it. He sucks the skin there hard enough to leave an obvious hickey right there on his nape. James drags his fingers through the hair at the back of José’s head, scratches his fingers against his scalp. 

He draws away, sliding a hand down José’s back.

José sits up and turns, wincing a bit, to face James. He rubs at the hair at the back of his head. “What are you—”

“Didn’t say you could get up,” James says, reaching out, catching José by the wrist.

“Huh?” José frowns at him and narrows his eyes, jerking against the hand around his wrist.

“Come here,” James says, pulling on him.

José lets James pull him closer. “Now you’re being weird.”

James just circles his other wrist with his fingers and wrestles him back against the mattress. He pins José down with all his weight. “Maybe you were right about needing to be punished again.” 

José’s breath stutters in his throat. “What’re you gonna do with me,” he asks, tugging on his wrists.

James lets go of one of José’s wrists to wrap around his cock. “Gonna give you what you’ve been wanting this whole time.”

José finally manages to pull his arm away and he pushes at James’s chest, ineffectually. “Don’t like you, you’re annoying,” he says, pushing some more.

James lines their bodies up, nudges his hips forward just a bit to rub the head of his cock back between José’s cheeks. “I think you’re lying,” he says, smirking. 

José makes a face. “No, I really don’t.”

James tightens his grip on José’s arm for a moment before moving to hold onto his hip. He watches—can’t stop watching—as his cock disappears in him, until their bodies are joined and he can’t tell where he ends and José begins. José’s breath hitches in his ear and his fingers squeeze on James’s shoulder.

“ _Realmente te odio_ ,” José hisses in his ear.

James doesn’t know what it means, but it sounds unkind. He pulls out, almost completely, before slamming back in. José makes a soft, breathy, choked off sound in his throat. James does it again—slamming his hips, digging his fingers in and pulling José back down against him—just so he’ll make that sound again. 

James reaches down, hooking an arm around José’s thigh, and pulls his leg over his shoulder, angling his hips. José’s cock—flushed a deep shade of red to match his red cheeks, slick with pre-come—bobs against his stomach and he reaches for it. James lets go of José’s hip to knock his hand away, and his eyes fly open. 

“No,” James says, turning his head, opening his mouth against José’s calf. He licks the skin before biting down hard enough to leave the indentation of his teeth. He rocks his hips forward and José presses his knuckles against his mouth.

He watches avidly as José’s flush spreads across his shoulders and chest. José’s teeth dig into his knuckles, leaving behind crescent moon indentations and when he finally pulls his fist away from his mouth, his lips are wet and shiny with his spit. He lifts his eyes then and his smoldering gaze pierces James like a flaming lance. 

Something twists in James’s chest like a key turning in a lock. All his doors are opening. 

His fingers slip against José’s skin, slick with sweat. 

“What.” José drags his wet knuckles down over James’s arm.

“Nothing.” James feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He redirects his eyes to the pale yellow wall behind José’s head.

“ _¡Vete!_ ” José snaps, pushing his bottom lip out in a pout.

James glances back down at him. He slots his fingers over José’s throat. He doesn’t press down, just leaves his fingers there tucked under his chin, thumb under his jawline. José looks up at him, mouth flattening into a thin line. 

James leans down, tightens his fingers just a little bit around José’s throat, and pushes his tongue into his mouth. José squirms up against him, struggles to kiss him back, but James is everywhere, all over him, pressing him down into the mattress. James feels José’s nails digging sharply into his back and his thighs tightening around his hips. 

José manages to unpin a hand out from under James and rakes his nails down his arm. James grabs him around the wrist and pushes his arm back down. When he lifts an arm to push at James’s shoulder, he pins José’s other arm down against the mattress too.

“Let go.” José tugs against James’s hands. 

“I’m not letting you go,” James mutters.

José struggles against him. “I hate you.”

“You don’t. I know you don’t.” James smirks and thrusts his hips, long and slow, and the soft, gasping way José’s breath hitches on the downstroke tells him all he needs to know. James presses his smirk against José’s neck, sliding his hands away from his wrists, down his arms.

“I do,” José says, even as he wraps his arms around James’s neck and presses feverish, fervent kisses against his mouth and over his cheeks and over his eyelids. “I hate you the most.”

James opens his mouth on José’s neck and sucks a mark into the skin there. “There anybody else you hate as much as you hate me?” James feels oddly possessive so he bites at the hickey he sucked on José’s neck. 

“No,” José says, “there’s no one else.”

“Good.” James presses a gentle kiss against his neck. 

José’s fingers are in his hair again, stroking against his scalp, and then he’s drawing James up with a hand on the back of his neck and then he’s kissing him all soft and tender. James goes still over—in—him and kisses him back in a desperate rush. Kissing and kissing him, hands wrapping around his waist and clasping him close. 

James pulls back and José stares up at him, fingers playing in the hair at the back of his neck. His mouth is swollen and red and his eyes are black as an oil slick. James touches his face, draws his fingers down over his lips. 

José presses a kiss against his fingertips, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. 

James sighs and paws at José’s cheek until he locks eyes with him again.

“What?” José asks.

“Nothing,” James says. He strokes his fingers over José’s cheek.

José looks away. James just keeps staring. 

James slips an arm under José and gathers him closer, against his chest. He likes fucking him in this position. This way, he doesn’t have to look into José’s eyes and he doesn’t have to look at his swollen lips and he doesn’t have to look at the hollow of his throat or the marks he left behind on his neck and he doesn’t have to think about them or how they make him feel. He doesn’t have to think about how any of this makes him feel.

James reaches down, wraps a hand around José’s cock, and starts stroking him off. José’s draped heavily against his chest, panting into his neck, fingers clutching at his back. 

“C’mon, José,” James urges, stroking José the way he knows he likes. It sounds too much like a plea. 

José says nothing, just tightens his arms around James and turns his head, pressing his face against his shoulder. 

He feels José shaking against his chest, then shaking apart against him. His nails cut into the skin at the back of James’s neck, and his breath is coming in shallow, shaky gasps. 

James lays him back against the mattress and braces himself over José with one hand, the other slipping around his cock. Working him through his orgasm. James keeps running his hand up and down his shaft, slowly, until José finally reaches down and shoves his hand away and snaps out, “ _¡Es suficiente!_ ”

James ducks his head and kisses him again, says against his lips, “My turn now.”

José just gives him a tiny nod.

James grabs him by the hips and starts fucking him again. José whimpers, still sensitive and shivery from his orgasm, and clutches at James’s arms. James is seized by the urge to break him, take him apart piece by piece, before putting him back together again. He wants to keep fucking him and fucking him until he comes again. He wants to keep José in this bed for as long as he’ll let him. James wants this to last.

José starts pushing impatiently at his shoulders. “C’mon, c’mon,” he says, “hurry.”

“You got somewhere to be? Someone else to fuck?” James asks.

José scowls at him, but James just laughs and kisses it off his face.

James’s orgasm sneaks up on him like a thief. He throws himself over José and fucks him into the mattress and he’s dimly aware of José’s hands on his face and he’s grabbing José by the wrists and holding on tight enough to hurt. 

He’s out of control, he knows this, he’s burning with it. And then he’s falling. 

José’s hands are clutching at his face and he’s murmuring something fuzzy, indistinct. James can’t hear anything past the pounding in his ears. 

James forces his eyes open to look at José. His eyelashes are wet and his mouth is wet too and James feels pieces of himself splintering. There’s something in his chest that feels like a door off its hinges.

He slumps over José and presses tiny kisses across his eyelids and his damp cheeks and his soft mouth. 

José’s fingers slip away from his cheeks and looks away. “Get off,” he murmurs. “You’re heavy.”

“No,” James says. He presses his fingers against José’s cheek and turns his head until their eyes meet.

José squirms underneath him. The tops of his cheeks are still flushed with color. “Get _off_.” He slaps at James’s chest. “I _do_ hate you.”

James slides his hand over José’s cheek. “Oh. Okay.”

“You not taking me seriously,” José says, frowning, forehead wrinkling.

James ducks his head and kisses the crease between his brows. “I’m not.”

“I—I need a shower. Off.” José sighs and presses his hands against James’s chest.

James pulls out and away and José sits up, glaring down at the mess he left behind. He turns and slaps at James’s chest again. 

“Stop hitting me,” James says, mildly, snagging him by the wrist.

“I’m messy.” José draws in a shaky breath and James looks up at him, looks up at his face, still holding onto him by his arm. “What?”

“You okay?” James asks, letting go of him to rub his back.

José turns his head away. “I’m fine.”

James drags himself up against the headboard and slings an arm around José’s shoulders, pulling him against his chest. José flops against him, limp and boneless, and his cheek lands on James’s shoulder. His fingers trace idle patterns on James’s stomach and chest. James curls him closer to move his mouth through José’s short, sweat-damp hair. His other arm finds its way around José’s waist.

This is nice. They don’t have many quiet moments like this. Part of James is still waiting for one of them—or both of them—to screw it up even as he slips his fingers over José’s chin and turns his face toward him and lays tender kisses over his mouth. 

José is a solid, warm presence against his chest. He can’t stop thinking about that.

James ducks his head to kiss him again and José lifts his hand, fingers pressing gently against his lips, and he stops. 

“What,” James asks, a puff of breath against his fingertips.

José pulls his hand down. He stares up at James, eyes flickering across his face, searching for something James hopes he finds. “Is nothing.”

“You sure?” James squeezes his arms around him.

José looks away and James reaches down, fingers brushing over his cheek, pulling him back. The look in José’s eyes is dark and murky and James’s heart stutters in his chest. 

“Let me go,” José says quietly, so quietly James isn’t entirely sure he heard him correctly. 

“Hm?” James asks.

“Let me go,” José says, a little louder this time, sliding a hand over James’s and pulling it away from his face. 

James shakes his head. “Why?” 

“Because.” José tries to sit up but James just tightens his arms around him. “Let go.”

James shoves him back against the pillows and leans over him, hands pressing on his shoulders. “No.”

José stares up at him and, even as he squirms underneath him, wraps his hands around James’s wrists and makes no move to push him away. “Let me go.”

“You haven’t given me a reason,” James says. 

James feels unreasonably selfish, greedy now. He knows it’s unreasonable because he has no _claim_ over José. José isn’t his and he isn’t José’s. 

José told James to let him go and he should let him go. 

But James isn’t as good as he wants to be. Pretends to be. James isn’t good at all.

“Don’t need a reason,” José says, pushing at James’s chest. “Get off. Go back to your room. Let me _go_.”

James tightens his hands over José’s bare shoulders. He traces his eyes over the moles that form constellations on his skin. He’s beautiful. 

“Don’t push me away,” James says.

“I don’t want you here.” James shoves at him again, with a little more force.

“ _Why_? Just tell me why.” James pushes him right back, into the mattress. José stares up at him with wide eyes. “Tell me why. Tell me.”

“I can’t.” José struggles and squirms underneath him, and his fingernails dig into James’s arm.

James slips a hand under his shoulders and pulls him into a desperate clash of lips and tongues and teeth—and then José’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin and his fingers are clutching at James’s shoulders like he doesn’t want him to leave.

James shoves at him and mumbles against the corner of his mouth, “You still want me to go?” 

José’s still pulling at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. If he pulled James any closer they’d be fucking again, but neither of them are ready for that yet.

“Don’t leave. Was just being dumb,” José whispers.

“You’re not. You’re good, you’re good.” James cups a hand at the back of his neck and kisses him again, nicer this time, a gentle press of lips and no teeth. It still stings.

José’s fingers dig into the meat of James’s shoulder. “ _Pero no me dejes, no me dejes nunca. Te necesito._ ”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” James says, dipping his head to kiss José again. He pauses, resting his lips against José’s. “Tell me.”

José shakes his head, a little frantically, and manages to wedge his elbow between their bodies and shove James off of him. He gets out of the bed and James climbs out after him, sighing, reaching out for him. 

“No,” José says, shaking his head still. 

“What the heck is going on with you?” James grabs him by the wrist and José wheels around, catching James in the shoulder with a fist.

“Why you care? You don’t care,” José says, jerking his wrist out of James’s hand. 

James rubs his hands over his face and groans. “Don’t tell me how to feel,” he snaps irritably, shoving his hands through his hair.

“You should go,” José says, nodding toward the door.

“You told me not to,” James says. “So I’m not going.”

José steeples his hands and presses his fingers against his mouth. “I change my mind.”

“No.” James tilts his head and looks down his nose at José—he knows how much he hates that—and folds his arms over his chest. And pushes away the unexpected burst of self-consciousness that floods through him.

James is suddenly very aware of his nakedness and he wonders, idly, if this is how Adam felt after eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Adam hid his shame from the searching eyes of God, but James has nowhere to hide. And José isn’t God. 

The Lord fills James’s heart with joy and song and light on most nights, but tonight James’s heart sits heavy in his chest like a stone. 

José steps up to him, hands clenching into fists, and James just can’t help himself. He lifts a hand and touches his face tenderly. José’s eyes flicker and he brings a hand up to push James away.

“You should go,” he says again, but he sounds unsure. The words sound more like an invitation than a push out the door.

James stares him down. He palms at his cheek. “Make me.”

“You’re making this hard,” José says, shaking his head. His mouth brushes against the heel of James’s hand. “Why won’t you just go?”

“Because you told me not to go,” James says. “Because you meant it.”

José’s face crumples, for just a moment. “Oh. You just feel like being difficult then,” he says, laughing, but it comes out sounding wrong. 

“That’s why you keep coming back,” James says, taking one step forward, and then another one, backing José into the wall. “You like it.”

“Why would I?” José laughs again, but it’s forced. James knows what José really sounds like when he means it. “Don’t like you. Don’t like anything about you.”

James leans in, brushing his knuckles over José’s cheek. “We both know that’s a lie.”

He feels José’s hands push ineffectually at his chest. James brushes his knuckles under his chin and tips his head back until their eyes meet.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” José says, trying to twist his head away from James’s hand.

James turns his face back and pins him back against the wall with just a look. “Stop playing around with me,” he says.

“What d’you mean? I’m not.” José tears his eyes away from James and shakes his head.

James touches his cheek again, turning his head back until their eyes meet. “Tell me what you want.”

“What? I told you, want you to go—” José tries, pointing toward the door, but James takes him by the wrist and pins his arm against the wall.

José stares into his eyes and holds himself very still and James thinks he’s holding his breath too. 

James covers José’s body with his own and presses him back against the wall. His lips seek out and find José’s and then he’s kissing him soft and slow. José’s fingers drift over his shoulder, barely touching, and James lets go of his wrist to scoop him into his arms. José’s arms are around his neck, and his mouth is pressed against James’s, and James’s heart rattles in his chest like a bird in a cage. 

James pushes him back against the wall and pulls his lips away from José’s to press his forehead against his temple. José’s fingers stroke gently through his hair. When James lifts his head, José is staring at him with an unguarded look in his eyes that stirs something in his chest. 

James draws a hand up José’s arm, slowly over his shoulder. His heart twists in his chest. “José.”

José shakes his head, fingers still sifting through the hair at the back of James’s neck. “I want you to stay.” He shifts his eyes away. “For… for more than just tonight.”

James closes his eyes and sighs. José starts squirming underneath him and James’s eyes fly open. José shoves him in the chest. 

“What—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it.” José struggles out from under James and holds his hands up, palms out, as if he thinks James will come after him.

Something about that scrapes at the back of James’s mind unpleasantly.

“You don’t have to apologize,” James says.

“I know this is just fun for you,” José says, still refusing to meet James’s eyes. “It’s fun for me too. I like fun.”

“José.” James sighs again and rubs a hand over his mouth.

“We have fun.” José forces a smile onto his face that tweaks something in James’s chest. “Don’t wanna ruin that.”

“You haven’t. You won’t,” James says, wrapping his hand around José’s.

“I did,” José says, trying to twist his hand free. “I just did. Weren’t you listening.”

“I was listening.” James tightens his grip around José’s hand. 

“What did you hear?” José meets his eyes.

James is not a good man. He tries—God, he’s tried so hard—but he’s always stumbling and falling and cutting his palms and his knees on the rocks in his path. José’s always tripped him up, José’s always set him off the path to salvation.

James stares into José’s eyes and clasps his hand in his. 

“I want that too,” he whispers, pressing José’s knuckles against his lips. “I wanna stay.” 

José laughs and cups James’s cheek in his hand. “Don’t have to say that ’cause you think I’m gonna be sad or hurt if you don’t—” 

James dives in and cuts him off with a kiss. José’s hand slips away from his face.

James breaks the kiss to mumble, “Shut up, José.”

“Okay.” José wraps his arms around James’s waist and buries his face against his neck. 

James holds him close and presses his mouth against José’s bare shoulder. His skin is smooth and tastes like salt. James lets his hand go wandering down José’s back.

“We should…” James trails off. He strokes patterns between José’s shoulder blades. 

“What?” he asks.

“I—I dunno.” James kisses his shoulder.

“Is late,” José says, slipping his arms from around James’s waist. He looks up at him, a hand resting on his waist.

James cups his chin in his hand and kisses him again, and then again and again. He feels José’s smile under his lips. 

“Shower?” James asks, muffled against José’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” José says, brushing his lips against James’s. “Then you can stay with me. If you want.”

James slips his arm around José’s shoulders. “Okay, good.” He kisses him again. He can’t seem to stop.

“You never stayed through the night before.” José’s laughter vibrates against James’s chest.

James catches José’s hand in his for a moment and squeezes. “First time for everything, I guess.” 

José squeezes back and the smile he offers up feels like a gift.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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